The Assassin and the Desert (Throne of Glass, #0.3)

by Sarah J. Maas

“So,” Ansel said, her brows rising. “Celaena Sardothien.” “Yes?” Ansel shrugged—or at least shrugged as well as she could, given the armor. “I thought you’d be . . . more dramatic.”

Ansel rolled her neck like a cat stretching out in the sun. “Of course it does. But the running keeps me in shape. You think I was just born with these legs?” Celaena ground her teeth as Ansel gave her a fiendish grin. She’d never met anyone who smiled and winked so much.

The call is coming from inside the house

“Tomorrow will be better. It might be only a foot more than today, but it will be a foot longer that you can run.”

Though Celaena didn’t want to admit it, Ansel was right. She did run farther the next day. And the day after that, and the one following that.

But Celaena was already at the wall, wincing as she drew the burning arrow back far enough for it to singe her fingers.

They’d spent the entire day trudging across the sand, stopping only at midday to sleep under their cloaks and avoid the mind-crisping glare of the sun.

And yes, I suppose you could say they’re somewhat cursed.”

See, there was this archway that went through the bottom of the watchtower—so you could see through it to the other side of the hill. And one of the stable boys told my sister that if you looked through the archway on the night of the summer solstice, then you might see into another world.”

“So?” the merchant asked. “Will you retrieve my lost years for me?”

She’d heard of Asterion horses, of course. The most ancient breed of horse in Erilea. Legend claimed that the Fae had made them from the four winds—spirit from the north, strength from the south, speed from the east, and wisdom from the west, all rolled into the slender-snouted, high-tailed, lovely creature that stood before her.

“I don’t want to walk home! We’re taking a shortcut!” Ansel shouted back. Behind them, the three guards still charged onward.

Ansel wove and turned with the passage, fast as a stream down a mountainside,

When the horses were too winded to keep running, Ansel finally stopped atop a dune, Celaena pulling up beside her. Ansel looked at Celaena, wildness still rampant in her eyes. “Wasn’t that wonderful?” Breathing hard, Celaena didn’t say anything as she punched Ansel so hard in the face that the girl went flying off her horse and tumbled onto the sand. Ansel just clutched her jaw and laughed.

merlons,

“Because Lord Berick promised me a thousand men to march into the Flatlands, that’s why. Stealing those horses was exactly the public excuse he needed to attack this fortress. And all I had to do was take care of the guards and leave the gate open last night. And bring him this.”

But I think you will leave a lasting imprint on Ansel’s heart. You spared her life, and returned her father’s sword.

“How is it that you’re speaking to me now? I thought your vow of silence was eternal.” He shrugged. “The world seems to think so, but as far as my memory serves me, I’ve never officially sworn to be silent. I choose to be silent most of the time, and I’ve become so used to it that I often forget I have the capacity for speech, but there are some times when words are necessary—when explanations are needed that mere gestures cannot convey.”

He’s making you pay back a fortune that he forced you to borrow.”